Path of the Sword
by Rilenna
Summary: As his father's sakabatou is passed from one owner to another, Himura Kenji learns about swordsmanship and life. Chapter fic.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: **Personally, I never agreed with the future of the Himura family that was presented in the OVA _Seisouhen_ (Reflections). I could rant about it forever, but instead I decided to write my own version of the events post-manga.

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This is a chapter fic. Each chapter contains a moment in the life of Himura Kenji, written as a one-shot and put together to tell the larger story as he matures. Emphasis is placed on the issue of swordsmanship, and Kenji's growth is expressed in relation to the sakabatou as it changes hands.

Thanks for reading!

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~o~o~o~

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

~o~o~o~

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Pleasantly worn out from an afternoon of teaching at the Maekawa dojo, Kaoru opened the familiar gate and glanced around the empty yard. Her redheads were nowhere in sight—Kenshin must have put Kenji to bed already. She always hoped to come home in time to say goodnight to her adorable two-year-old son, but on those days when she worked across town, he often fell asleep before she returned.

Sure enough, the door to her son's room was open, and she stepped into the doorway to see her husband kneeling beside the futon as the young child slept. Kaoru took in the scene with a smile.

But when Kenshin stood and made his way over to greet her, she noticed signs of unease in his posture. A quick glance back in Kenji's direction confirmed that the child was safe and healthy… still, something was bothering her husband.

~o~o~o~

When he saw Kaoru's questioning look, Kenshin realized his doubts must be showing on his face.

"I'm worried about him," he admitted, gesturing back toward the sleeping child.

"You're _always_ worried," his wife chuckled, shoving playfully against his arm. It was a running joke between them, but this time it failed to lighten his mood.

Seeing this, Kaoru's expression became serious. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"No… not yet," Kenshin said slowly. "But he was fascinated by my sword today. I wouldn't let him touch it, but he obviously wanted to. He looked at it like it was a toy…"

Kaoru looked as if she wanted to say something, but he pressed on, his words coming out in a rush.

"He's too young to know it's dangerous, but that won't last long. What will happen when he learns he's living in a dojo, with a father who is rumored to have one of the most powerful sword styles in the country? If he's anything like me—"

"If he's anything like you, he'll want to help people, not hurt them," Kaoru interrupted, "and we'll teach him how to do exactly that. We can't keep swordsmanship from him forever, Kenshin. He's our son, after all. You know the consequences of a killer's sword; you'll be able to guide him the right way."

"Hiko knew the consequences too," Kenshin pointed out. "That didn't stop me from leaving him and joining the war."

"_Hiko_ let you walk away without a fight," she retorted. Kenshin couldn't help smiling at the expression of disapproval on her face; though the two of them got along, Kaoru didn't like Hiko very much. "Can you honestly tell me you would sit and watch your son make the same mistake you once did?"

"No." It was true. Though he respected his surrogate father, learning that particular lesson the hard way was something he wished Hiko had prevented. Kenshin wasn't sure what he would have done if the roles had been reversed… _but I would have done something,_ he realized. _And I __**will**__ do something if Kenji tries to throw away his humanity._

His wife nudged him, pulling him out of his thoughts. "Remember when Yahiko first started learning swordsmanship? He wanted nothing to do with the 'sword that revitalizes'. Two weeks later, he was saving up money to buy his own reversed blade."

"Yes, I remember… he was definitely a handful at first."

"That's an understatement." Her grumbling tone was betrayed by the grin tugging at the corner of her mouth.

Kenshin finally laughed, pulling his wife into the circle of his arms. Her answering smile was triumphant— she always knew how to reassure him.

"Thanks, Kaoru." For a moment they were both silent, and Kenshin took comfort in the way she openly trusted him, her complete confidence that he would turn out to be a worthy father. He was determined to meet those expectations; despite all the mistakes in his past, he would do this _right._

Something about his wife's words triggered his memory, and he pulled back to meet her eyes again. "Actually, I was thinking it was about time to call Yahiko back to the dojo. It's his birthday soon… he'll be fifteen years old…"

Kaoru waited for him to continue, unsure what he was getting at.

"He's an adult now." Kenshin smiled, the fingers of his left hand absently fingering the hilt of his sakabatou. "I'd like to let him know that I see him as such… and I believe he'll have more use for this blade than I will."

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I'm in a writing frenzy right now, so the next few chapters are already in the works. I'll do my best to hold them back, though - just long enough to set a good pace for updates...

Reviews and critique are always welcome! This is my first chapter fic, so advice is greatly appreciated. :)


	2. Foreign

**~o~o~o~**

**Chapter 2: Foreign**

**~o~o~o~  
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"We're back!"

Yahiko had agreed to accompany Kenji for a few hours, and they had gone to the riverside, where there was a small field that served as a playground for the local children.

Kenshin welcomed the two of them back into the dojo with a smile. At nineteen years of age, Yahiko was already a few inches taller than the rurouni; his posture was confident, his face an open book. He wore the sakabatou proudly on his hip, and Kenshin couldn't help thinking that it suited him well.

"Come on in. I just finished making dinner, and Kaoru's setting the table. I'm sure we have enough for one more, Yahiko, if you'd like," he offered.

"Nope, can't stay," the young man replied. "I promised Tsubame I'd meet her at the Akabeko. Thanks though. See ya later, Kenji!"

But before he turned away, his eyes caught Kenshin's, his gaze serious. The red haired man nodded to show he understood. Yahiko was giving him a heads-up: something important had happened at the river today.

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~o~o~o~

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As the three of them settled down to the meal, it became clear that what Yahiko had hinted at was true. Though Kenji normally had an impressive appetite, tonight he was pushing the rice around with his chopsticks, not eating it. His parents exchanged glances.

"Did you have fun at the river this afternoon, Kenji?" Kaoru asked, keeping her tone light.

"Not really…"

They waited a few moments, but he wouldn't look up at them, choosing instead to stare at his food like it was the most interesting thing in the world. His father was about to ask another question when Kenji finally spoke up.

"Hiroshi said mean things to me today."

Kenji was being bullied? Anger flashed through Kenshin, mixing with the urge to protect, and he struggled to relax. Kaoru bristled beside him, but he placed a hand on her arm and turned back to his son.

"What did he say?" Kenshin asked gently.

"He called me a demon." The tiny redhead was miserable.

Kenshin's anger instantly cooled into icy dread. _Demon_. It was a name he knew well; many swordsmen had called the Hitokiri Battousai by it. Was his son being subjected to the same grudge, even at the age of six?

But Kenji's next words proved that theory wrong.

"He said my hair was unnatural, and that I must be a demon, because no Japanese boys had hair like mine. I said no, I wasn't any demon, but then he said that means I'm foreign, and that being foreign is just as bad."

"Did Yahiko see this happen?"

"Yeah." The expression on Kenji's face lightened a bit. "He said red hair was awesome, and told Hiroshi to quit being jealous."

"He's exactly right," Kaoru said, grinning. "I wish I had hair as cool as yours."

Kenshin's hand slid down from her arm to reach her hand, and he squeezed it gently. She might not know it, but her son was not the only one benefitting from her words. Years of people whispering and staring were hard to erase.

"It was wrong of Hiroshi to say that about foreign people, too," he told his son. "The world is a big place— Japan is only one part of it. And you can't really know much about foreigners until you meet one." He smiled. "I met a man from Germany once."

"You did?" Kenji's eyes were huge. "What was he like?"

"A lot like the Japanese," Kenshin answered honestly. "He looked a little different, and he had a different way of speaking, but he was happy and friendly. A lot more friendly than Hiroshi was today."

"Yeah..." The little boy seemed more at ease now, finally beginning to eat his dinner instead of just staring at it.

The three of them sat in comfortable silence, and Kenshin began to wonder if his son would want to go back to the river to play again next time. Had Hiroshi ruined the experience? It sounded like his prejudice had been fed to him by his parents— they must not have approved of the way Japan opened up to the world at the start of the Meiji. For such strong feelings of ill will towards foreigners to exist ten years into the era, though…

His thoughts were interrupted when Kenji glanced back up from his meal, a question apparent in his face. "Dad?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you foreign?"

The silence was thick now.

"Because… you look a little different… and you have a different way of speaking…"

"Oro." Kenshin blinked. Two sets of blue eyes were waiting curiously for his answer.

The rurouni held back a sigh. Why hadn't he prepared a response for this? This line of questioning was one he wanted to avoid, at least for a few more years. The truth was, he had often wondered about this same topic himself— but there was no way for him to know his own heritage. Those few memories were too blurry, the hair color too insignificant to remember…

He didn't want to explain to Kenji what it felt like to grow up without parents.

But it was inevitable now, and Kenshin would much rather tell the truth than betray his son's trust. He smiled, treating the words like they were no big deal, hoping the conversation would prove uninteresting to his six-year-old. "I don't know."

"You don't know? Really?"

"Really."

"Why not?"

"I never asked my parents," Kenshin answered simply.

Kenji pondered this for a moment. "Do they look like you?"

Kenshin's smile stayed firmly in place. "I don't remember. I haven't seen them in a really long time."

"Why not?"

He should have known. There was no quenching this little boy's curiosity.

"They're not here anymore. They… died. It was a long time ago."

"Oh…" The child's face fell, and he bit his lip. "Sorry, Dad."

"It's all right." Kenshin had long since recovered from the death of his parents. All he wanted right now was to get his son to smile again, so he kept talking. "Not long after that happened, I met Hiko. Remember him?"

It worked. Kenji's eyes lit up. "The really big man?"

The rurouni nodded, grinning. His sword master had come to visit recently—something Kenshin had never dreamed would happen—and Kenji absolutely loved him.

"He took me to his house, and I lived there for a while."

"Wow! You were with Hiko every single day? That sounds fun!"

Memories of his master's teasing, blisters on his hands, and aching arm muscles surfaced in his mind. There was a muffled choking sound beside him; he turned to see his wife trying very hard not to laugh out loud. "Yes, it was _very_ fun, wasn't it, Kenshin?"

"Oro…"

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Ok, so... I guess I lied. Turns out it is _really_ hard to refrain from posting chapters as soon as they're ready... -_-;;

I'm not entirely happy with the way this chapter turned out. I had a good structure set up for it at first, but then I let myself run away with the conversation, and now the ending seems too abrupt. Maybe I do need a beta after all. Anyway, I hope it was still interesting enough to read! It'll get more into swords soon, but at six years old I figure Kenji's a little too young for that. :)


	3. An Unexpected Visitor

**~o~o~o~**

**Chapter 3: An Unexpected Visitor**

**~o~o~o~**

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As her last student stepped out of the dojo for the day, Kaoru let out a peaceful sigh. Still dressed in her practice attire, she put her wooden sword back in its place on the wall and opened the door to the yard. This was where her redheads often spent their afternoons—when they weren't inside watching the lesson, that is.

The two of them were playing catch with the ball that Kenshin had bought for his son's seventh birthday, exchanging mild banter as each one tried to surprise the other with the next pass.

The rurouni smiled at her in greeting as he sent the ball high into the air with an underhanded throw, and Kaoru walked over to stand beside him, watching her son catch the ball with both hands. "Who's winning?"

Her husband shrugged. "I haven't been keeping track." He turned to extend the question to his son. "Kenji?"

"I am!" was the confident reply, and both parents laughed. The young boy grinned and threw the ball straight at Kenshin with as much speed as he could— but before the older man could catch it, Kaoru snatched it out of the air.

"Oro?"

Kenji waved his arms enthusiastically. "Over here, Mom!"

The game of catch soon morphed into Keep-Away-From-Dad, and Kenshin enjoyed every ounce of simple happiness as his wife and son teamed up and strategized against him. Kenji was proving to be a worthy opponent, too; he was doing his best to thwart his father's ability to predict moves. Occasionally the boy would put all his weight off to the side and into his good arm, and if Kenshin went for it, he would move the ball to his weak hand and throw it the other direction. The game led the three of them across the yard and back again— running, jumping, and panting as they went. Kenji had a wide, excited smile on his face, and Kenshin took pride in knowing he had helped to put it there.

His wife was in possession of the ball now, and she squeaked as he began to chase her. Knowing she could never outrun him, Kaoru sent the ball sailing over her husband's head, and her son ran to catch it, trying to get there before his father could. But Kenshin had other ideas. Grinning, the rurouni ignored the ball and lunged straight for Kenji instead.

"Wha—? Dad!" The two of them tumbled to the grass in what soon became a friendly wrestling match.

Kaoru shook her head at the sight of long red hair tangling together, small limbs flailing wildly as Kenji attempted to pin his laughing father down. Her boys really were two of a kind… and they never failed to brighten her day with their silliness.

But suddenly her husband's body went completely slack, and only a split second later, Kenji's did too. Both were staring at the dojo's outer gate, and Kenshin had a look of utter disbelief in his face.

In that moment, the rurouni noticed several things. First, it was time to teach Kenji about ki; he must have inherited quite a bit of talent, as he had sensed the new presence almost as soon as his father had. Second, the ki he was sensing held an element of danger—not exactly hostile, but with a feeling of wildness to it. But third, and most importantly: _I know that man._

It couldn't be.

But his wife's shout confirmed it.

"_Sanosuke!"_

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The rooster-head returns!

I keep thinking I'm going to write these chapters from Kenji's perspective, but it never turns out that way. It's hard to write from the point of view of someone who doesn't know very much... I keep coming back to Kenshin's view because he's good at observing and putting things together.

Hopefully the later chapters will be in Kenji's eyes, though. When he starts forming strong opinions about swordsmanship, it should be easier (and more interesting) to switch over.

Reviews are always appreciated. :)


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